Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
by cmaddict
Summary: Why'd you do all this for me?" he asked. "Because no one should be alone on Christmas," Connie replied. Christmas oneshot, Connie/Mike. Please R&R.


**This is the first L&O story I've written in a while, so I'd definitely love some feedback. I don't really know where this came from, but ever since I saw last season I've loved the thought of Connie and Mike as the new Jack and Claire. Hope you guys enjoy this, and Happy Holidays!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything... please don't sue. It's Christmas.**

Michael Cutter couldn't concentrate. It was two days before Christmas, their caseload was getting a little ridiculous, and somebody in the office was blasting Christmas carols from their radio. Now he wasn't exactly a Scrooge, but hearing _Feliz Navidad_ fifteen times in the space of two hours was just plain obnoxious.

So was the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the break room doorway. He couldn't even get his coffee, his lifeforce, without being grabbed by some secretary or junior ADA from White Collar Crimes. Someone in the office, probably one of those loons from Traffic division – those guys had way too much time on their hands – had decided to spread a little Christmas cheer by hanging garlands throughout the four floors that made up the DA's office. Here and there, they had hung paper snowflakes from the ceiling, turning the DA's office into a non-environmentally-friendly winter wonderland.

Surprisingly, Jack McCoy, District Attorney and the resident hardass, hadn't put a moratorium on the Christmas decorating. In fact, he seemed to be getting in the Christmas spirit too, a discovery that had absolutely shocked Michael. He acted like he was in much better spirits ever since the return of his daughter. From what Jack's secretary had said, he was spending some time with her over the holidays. Michael was happy for the District Attorney. At least someone got to be with loved ones during Christmas.

He sighed and spun around in his chair so he was facing the window behind his desk. Clouds had gathered over the city, threatening a heavy snowfall sometime that night or the next day. According to the weatherman on the news, New York would actually see a white Christmas, just like the ones they used to know. _Great_, Michael thought. _Another reason this Christmas is gonna suck_.

Christmas had once been his favorite time of year. He could still remember the year he'd gotten his first baseball bat and glove. Picking up the baseball sitting on his desk, he smiled as he recalled his father taking him out in the backyard and tossing the ball around with him. It was California, so Christmas was fairly warm that year. Michael was barely strong enough to throw it a couple of yards, but his father was a patient man.

Those days were gone now.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he whirled around to see who wanted something else out of him. A slight smile spread across his face as his assistant, ADA Connie Rubirosa, opened the door, letting in the loud strains of _Let It Snow_. "Hiding out?" the tall, beautiful brunette asked with a smile.

"If I hear _Feliz Navidad_ one more time, you're gonna have to prosecute _me_ for murder," he replied with a grin. "Close the door? The music's getting a little annoying."

"All right, Mr. Grinch," Connie said, her grin widening as she closed the door to his office and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. "What's put you in such a foul mood?"

He sighed and tossed the ball into the air. "Nothing," he answered, catching it as it came back down. "Where are we on the Polinsky case?"

"They filed a motion this morning to suppress the little boy's testimony." Connie brushed a strand of short brown hair out of her eyes. "They said he was too young."

"So we argue _People v. Maletkov_. The boy in that case was ten years old. James Montgomery is eleven. Surely an eleven-year-old knows the difference between the truth and a lie."

Connie elegantly shrugged her shoulder. "I know some forty-year-olds who don't know that."

Michael quirked an eyebrow at her. "Anyone I know?"

A teasing smile played at the corner of her mouth. "Not at all." She enjoyed the fact that she could tease him, and he'd tease right back. Their friendship had deepened quite a bit over the year they'd worked together. Of course, they'd had a few rough spots, like the time he'd tried to pimp her out to the jury, but they'd gotten past it. And she saw now that he really was a very caring man, with a heart for justice and speaking for the victims. "Looks like it's gonna start snowing pretty soon."

Michael twisted his head around to look out the window again. "Yeah, they said it would probably start tonight or early tomorrow."

"White Christmas." She smiled and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "My nieces and nephews are gonna love that."

He looked back at her and leaned back in his chair, tossing the ball in the air again and catching it. He studied her for just a moment, his mind whirling, as always. It was really no secret that he was incredibly attracted to his beautiful colleague. Who wouldn't be? Pretty, well-spoken, heart of gold, incredibly intelligent – it was like that juror had said before. The total package.

And also way out of his league. "Going home for Christmas?" he said finally.

She nodded. "Tonight, if I can. They live in Brooklyn, so it's not like I'm going far, but I'd hate to get stuck in a snowstorm."

"I'm sure Christmas at your house is a blast."

Connie laughed. "It's insane. Three brothers, one sister, twelve nieces and nephews, fourteen aunts and uncles, twenty cousins, two sets of grandparents, and my parents." She chuckled at Michael's wide-eyed expression. "Christmas is always a big deal in Latin culture. Midnight Mass, parties, food… you name it, we've got it."

Michael grinned. "Sounds like it's a lot of fun."

"Sure. If you call kids running wild through the house, my mother yelling at my dad to get off the couch, and my brother yelling at my sister-in-law to keep the kids quiet so he can hear the game 'fun'… then yeah, it's pretty fun." She laughed with Michael for a moment. "So where are you going for Christmas?"

Suddenly his grin faded, and his blue eyes grew sad and distant. "My apartment."

Connie furrowed her brow, confused. "What?"

He really didn't want to tell her about his pathetic life, but she would've never let it go. "I don't usually go anywhere for Christmas. I usually stay home." _And drink a lot_, he thought ruefully.

"You don't have family anywhere?"

Michael shook his head. "My parents died in a car accident about three years ago. I was an only child. They were only children. We moved around a lot when I was growing up, so they were pretty much all I had." He sighed and ran a hand through his dark blonde hair.

"You mean, the last three years, you've spent Christmas alone?"

He sighed again and nodded, suddenly very uncomfortable with the look she got on her face. Michael Cutter wasn't used to being pitied by anyone.

"Oh, Mike…"

He waved his hand through the air. "Don't feel sorry for me. The last thing I need is pity. If anything, it's my choice." Michael glanced down at his watch, surprised at how late it really was. "You should probably get going if you're gonna get to Brooklyn by the time the storm lets loose."

Connie stared at him, not really sure what to say. She'd never known that about her boss. It certainly explained the lack of Christmas cheer and his sour disposition for the last couple of weeks. She couldn't imagine spending Christmas alone in her empty apartment. "Mike…"

"Don't worry about me," he said with a smile. "I'm used to it. Go have fun with your family."

She stood up and slowly walked toward the door, looking at him with true compassion in her brown eyes. That was one of the things he really liked about her – Connie Rubirosa exuded compassion when it was appropriate, whether in her relationships with coworkers or in her dealings with witnesses. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" she asked quietly.

His smile felt plastered on, but he widened it anyway. "I'll be fine. Go spend the holiday with your family."

Finally she nodded and opened his door. Thankfully, the Christmas music had stopped, and the lights in the hallway were dimmed. This day was one of the few days when most people went home on time. The next day was Christmas Eve, and the office would be closed. "Merry Christmas, Mike," she said softly. Then she closed the door.

Michael sighed and scratched the back of his head before tossing the ball up in the air again. "Merry Christmas," he muttered.

*****

The next night was Christmas Eve, and Michael had never felt so alone. He sat in his apartment staring at some made-for-TV Christmas movie on one of the cable stations, nursing a scotch. His apartment overlooked Prospect Park, and even the park was empty that night. Everyone was at home, celebrating with friends and family. Except for him. He was alone with his scotch and his cable.

A knock on his door sounded, and he looked up, surprised. Who would actually come to his apartment on Christmas Eve?

He set his glass on the coffee table and crossed the living room to the door. Without looking to see who it was, he unlocked the door, pulled it open… and his jaw dropped in shock.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Connie asked, shifting the bag in her arms to make it a little more comfortable.

"Uh…" Michael shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "No, not at all." Suddenly he was very conscious that he was standing there in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

A smile played at the corner of her mouth. "Can I come in? This is getting a little heavy."

"Right." He reached out and took the plastic bag from her arms, then stepped aside and let her in. "I thought you'd be with your family."

Connie shrugged and took off her coat, revealing a bright red v-neck sweater over her dark blue jeans. "I was. Then I came back." She grinned as she draped the coat over one of the barstools at Michael's counter. "I figured you needed a little Christmas cheer." She looked over to the corner of the living room, where a small, sparsely decorated Christmas tree stood. "At least you have a tree."

"I'm not a complete Grinch," he replied with a smile, closing his front door. He held up the bag and motioned to it. "What's this?"

"Christmas Eve dinner."

Michael lifted an eyebrow at her. "Which is?"

"Pasta alfredo, some Caesar salad, and a white wine. Your vegetarianism makes it a little hard to cook a traditional Christmas dinner."

Michael chuckled. "My parents never cooked a traditional Christmas dinner." He set the bag down on the counter and gestured toward the back bedroom. "You don't mind if I go change, do you?"

"You look good in sweatpants," she teased, her smile growing as he blushed just a little.

"I look like a slob. I'll be back in two minutes." With that, he disappeared into the back bedroom.

Connie set to work making the dinner. She found his pots and pans under the stove and selected a huge pot. Humming softly to herself, she filled one of the larger pots with water, sprinkled in a little salt, and turned on the burner to let it boil. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out the Romaine lettuce, found a cutting board and a knife, and set to work cutting up the leafy greens.

"Okay, how can I help?" Michael asked, reappearing from the back.

She opened her mouth to reply, but when she glanced up no words would come out. She'd always thought Michael was an attractive man, but he looked so different from what she saw in the office. He wore a dark blue, v-neck sweater over his white undershirt, with a pair of faded blue jeans. The blue in the sweater made the blue in his eyes stand out even more than usual.

Suddenly the room felt awfully hot.

"Connie?" he prompted, furrowing his brow at her.

"Uh…" She cleared her throat and glanced around. "Why don't you slice some tomatoes?"

He nodded, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Sure."

For half an hour they worked around the kitchen, almost like they'd been cooking together for their entire lives. The conversation ranged from cases to the new presidency to past Christmas memories, but it never ceased as they maneuvered around each other, occasionally stopping to taste the delicious food.

Eventually, after much protesting from Michael, Connie convinced him to turn on his radio to one of the stations playing Christmas music. He laughed as she danced around the kitchen to "Jingle Bell Rock". She grabbed his hands and pulled him into the living room, swinging his hands in time with the music and trying to cajole him in joining in. Finally, he pulled her close and spun her around several times, dipping her low when the music hit its crescendo. Her brown eyes sparkled when he righted her.

Dinner was magnificent. Michael had to admit, she was a great cook. The conversation at dinner was just as varied as the discussion while they were cooking. They were two very different people, as they'd discovered while working together. But he found that she raised some very good points in her argumentation, even if he didn't always agree with her. She was a very intelligent woman – a trait that Michael found incredibly appealing.

After dinner, she moved to clear the plates, but a hand on her wrist stopped him. "I'll get it later," he said, picking up his wine glass and heading toward the living room.

Connie followed with her own wine glass, sinking onto the couch beside him.

"That was absolutely wonderful," he said, leaning back to stretch. "Where'd you learn to cook like that?"

"My mom," she replied, taking a sip of her wine. "She's a great cook."

"To cook for all those people, you have to be."

"I helped her a lot when I was growing up. She used to let me make the _flan_ at Christmastime." Connie chuckled at the memory.

"I'm sure it was great _flan_," he replied.

"When I didn't burn it, yeah, it was."

Michael laughed and set his drink on the coffee table. Their eyes connected, and his expression grew serious. "Why'd you do this? I mean, really."

Connie sighed and shifted just a little, tucking her legs up under her. "No one should be alone on Christmas, Mike. Even a loner like you."

"You didn't have to."

"No." Connie set her glass down next to his and looked him in the eyes. "But I wanted to. And doing good things for people you care about is part of Christmas."

Michael impulsively leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against her cheek. "Thank you," he whispered as he pulled back.

She ran a hand through her dark hair and smiled. "You're welcome."

His tongue darted out to run along his bottom lip, and her heart quickened. She'd been attracted to him for a long time, and it was like she couldn't stop herself from moving closer to him. Her hand seemed to move of its own accord, reaching up to softly brush against his cheek. It was Christmas - a time for new beginnings. She'd stamped down her attraction to him long enough.

"Connie," he whispered, watching her move closer. It was almost like a dream come true for him. He'd never thought he had a chance with her, and now she was the one instigating this. He'd dropped hints here and there, but she'd always been professional about their relationship. He couldn't figure out what changed, but he wasn't about to argue with it.

"Mike," she returned, and he felt it against his lips more than he heard it. Tenderly, she brushed her lips against his, eyes fluttering shut as her heart thudded against her ribcage. She could taste the wine and the spices in the sauce. For her, it would be a taste she'd always associate with him.

He was in heaven, he thought when his eyes closed slowly. She kissed him softly at first, but then the tone changed. But soon a taste wasn't enough for either as their touches became more passionate. Michael pried her lips open with his, his tongue skimming her teeth as his arms wrapped around her waist. Finally Connie relented, her own tongue darting out to tangle with his, and he swallowed her gasp when the hand on her thigh came up to brush against the skin under her sweater. She let out a groan when that hand traveled upward, caressing the soft skin under her shirt, and her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him so close that practically no space existed between their bodies.

They pulled back, breathing hard from the lack of oxygen. Michael's eyes were a deep shade of blue, darkened with the heat of arousal. They took in Connie's kiss-swollen lips and her flushed cheeks, and on impulse he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes, the other hand straying to her thigh.

"Well," he said, trying to catch his breath. A grin spread across his face. "That's one hell of a Christmas present."

Connie laughed. "I don't suppose there's more coming?"

His grin turned wicked. "The weather outside _is_ frightful."

Connie laughed again and shook her head. "And we don't have any place to go."

"Not that I can think of."

She smiled softly at him, reaching up to gently run through his hair. "Merry Christmas, Mike," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Connie," he replied, just before he crushed his lips to hers again.


End file.
